Echoes Of The Loved

• Josie Fisher, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2010

‘Some people believe that if you listen carefully, you can hear the echoes of the ocean trapped inside a shell. You know what I think? I believe when you hold it up to your ear, it’s not the ocean you hear, but the voices of the ones you love most calling to you. Lana...’

I still remember the time when she whispered my name into my ear. The infinite tears rolled down my sun-kissed cheeks once more. They pooled on my pillow, making it as transparent as a ghost. I let the sharp edges of our shell dig deeper into my palm, not wanting to lose this memory of her. I pulled it out from under my pillow, hesitating as I knew it would only bring another wave of disappointment.

I listened carefully just as she said.
I heard echoes just as she said...
But I could not hear her voice.

Pushing the shell back under my pillow, I curled my body up and rocked, lapping up the slightest bit of comfort that it brought to my miserable life. And slowly... very, very slowly I was able to pass into my dreams where the dark figure of reality could not harm my vulnerable mind.

My dreams always drifted between the magical moments in our lives. That night, I dreamt of the one memory I wished would crawl to the back of my mind and never return. It was a typical summer night, but instead of retiring to the beach and letting the retreating summer sun intoxicate our senses, I found myself in that room. The room of white. Its smell always hit my nose like a strong fist, the toxic fumes of bleach and the lingering aroma of lifeless bodies. I sat beside her, squeezing life into her frail palms. I placed our shell beside her bald head offering her that little bit of comfort. The tiny curves of its body surprisingly tall against her small head. She coughed, her whole body spasming for a few painful seconds. The men in white coats said I had an hour, it would not be enough.

I took her thoughts away from the pain that she so silently endured and explained the highlights of our lives. The first time we met. The first time we surfed. The endless summers we shared and her giant smile that could never be wiped away. This made her laugh... it would be her last. She was gone before I said goodbye. She had drifted off into a painless life as I drifted back into my room. Our hands grasped tightly until that last moment when I awoke with a gaping hole through my chest.

My knuckles were white from holding our shell, the evidence that she ever existed. After she had passed, I had watched the white coats wheel her away. Under the sheet lay my friend, my sister and my echo. And they wheeled her away.
She would never whisper my name again.